I skipped my normal blogging time today in favor of a nooner with my husband. I'm sure you all understand.
In fact, I've been skipping out on a lot of things these last few days, like calling my friends to thank them for my birthday gifts, in favor of having sex and sleeping (a lot).
But I've promised myself that once I've gotten this final blog out about my trip, I'll get right back to my normal routine.
So I believe I left you yesterday with the stripper boys.
Well, on Friday, we actually started to do some work. But Patrick also insisted that we go to the local tanning salon for a spray-on tan. Do you think he might have been embarrassed by my pasty white skin?
I ended up being more tan than I ever have in my life. But, I had an unfortunate incident with the little booties they give you to cover your toenails and I ended up with the dorkiest tan line ever on my feet. (I'm not the only one.) But, I am the only one with a dark brown cleavage stain. Apparently, some of the tan spray sort of settled there. Lovely!
On Friday night we joined a couple of Patrick's friends for dinner at the restaurant that he had been working at. The guys were great and I was so glad to meet them. I lived up to my reputation of ordering the most expensive meal on the menu. I had a lobster-stuffed filet mignon and it was orgasmic.
Some of the details get a little fuzzy from here. I think we parked back at Patrick's house and walked to the bar again. I seem to remember drinking three Cosmos and five Cape Cods. I definitely remember one of Patrick's friends grabbing my breast from behind. I don't think I had even met him yet at that point. Later, while Patrick was ordering us more drinks, he motioned me forward as if to say something in my ear and then poured some of his drink down my cleavage. Lovely! His friends dragged him home soon after. If he even remembers doing any of that stuff to "Toona Girl!" I'm sure he's embarrassed about it now.
We took way more pictures than we should have at the bar. We really didn't need photographic proof of my intoxication. And then somehow Patrick was able to talk me into going to a diner. He insisted it would help keep me from having a hangover, but really, I think he just wanted to embarrass me a little more. Because, of course, we ran into friends at the diner.
We walked home and crashed for another night.
When that damn annoying alarm went off the next morning, I really could have killed Patrick with just one look. But we got up and got ready for his moving sale.
I have to say that the moving sale was just an awful time for me. I didn't like having all of Patrick's stuff up for grabs, and I didn't like strangers traipsing in and out of his house. I was not a happy camper. I did the best I could to help, but I also stayed out of the way and cleaned as much as I could. Patrick's friends Ann and Kat helped out tremendously that day, and I could just hug them for it.
Saturday night was definitely the most surreal night of my trip. I felt like I was in a sitcom.
One of Patrick's friends is new to the area and threw a party to get to meet some people. It was a pajama party. It was thirty or forty gay men in their p.j.s and me. As Aaron put it, "That is definitely, Oh my gay hell!"
I had a blast. The food was amazing and I got to watch cute guys wrap themselves around each other playing Twister. I was smart enough not to drink that night. I've now had enough alcohol to last me for a few decades.
The guys kept staring at me, which was weird. But they also complimented me on my pajamas and pig tails, so I'm going to assume that they were staring at me because I'm just so fucking cute. Right?
Sunday was spent packing and cleaning. But I did get to meet Patrick's masturbating neighbor.
The guys were moving Patrick's coffee table to Shamus' pace next door. I was holding the glass door open and they had to stop with the glass-topped coffee table half-way through the threshold.
I was stuck holding that door or it would have banged the corner of the table. And this is when skanky neighbor man started talking to me.
I ignored him at first, but you know how crazy people get when you ignore them? So I tried to placate him with just a few words. Do you know what I mean?
Somehow, him asking me how I got to be so beautiful degenerated him to him declaring, "If you lost thirty pounds, I'd do you."
Great. I'll keep that in mind, drunk crazy neighbor man.
Of course, whenever I tell this story now I change it to, "If you lost thirty pounds, I'd fuck you."
And let's all just ignore the fact that drunk crazy neighbor man made me cry.
So we worked our asses off all day Sunday. I was exhausted from all the fun, partying, and drinking and that made me way too emotional. We were finally ready to leave just before 10 p.m. Patrick drove the rented van and I followed him in his car. And shhh. Don't tell him, but I cried my eyes out for him as we pulled away from his neighborhood.
By midnight we were ready to crash and we stopped and got a hotel room. The hotel clerk was laughing at me for trying to answer my phone by flipping it open even though I had the earpiece plugged in, and Patrick decided to try and make him laugh at me some more.
"So what do I get for 10 bucks?" he asked me. Fucking comedian. The clerk stood up for me and declared that I was worth at least 13 bucks. What would guys do without me around to use as comic fodder?
Very early the next morning we set off for Cape Cod.
When we passed the sign that says, "Welcome to Massachusetts" I told Patrick, "Welcome home, Baby."
When we got stuck in Boston traffic for the first time I told Patrick, "Welcome home, Baby!"
When we pulled into the driveway of the house he's staying in I told Patrick, "Welcome home, Baby!"
But I wasn't really welcoming him to any of those places. Because the truth is that he isn't really home. He's staying some place temporarily, trying to make money, and getting set to move on to the next phase of his life.
But I was welcoming him home. Because now, more than ever he is a member of my family and he has found a home right here in my heart.
And if this post is choppy and boring, I know you'll excuse me. Because I had to stop twice while writing it to have sex with my husband.